


The F Word

by amarriageoftrueminds



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Coda, Ficlet, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, feelgood, unashamedly feelgood nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 03:37:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1289812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarriageoftrueminds/pseuds/amarriageoftrueminds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John watches him approach in surprise, wondering if this whole 'sharing' thing is about to backfire on him.<br/>'Oh God,' he says out loud, as Dorian draws near. 'You're not gunna <em>hug </em>me are you?'<br/>Dorian's voice is sultry and amused. 'No John, I'm not going to hug you.' </p><p> </p><p>  <b>[missing-scene/coda to the finale]</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	The F Word

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. The sun is shining, I am happy, and I just fancied passing on a taste of that to John.
> 
>  
> 
> [ first thing I've EVER WRITTEN for Almost Human -- hope I got the characterisation right! O_O ]  
> 

 

 

They deal with the robbery on West 55th.

John takes great delight in winding down the window as they roll up and using his brand new leg to _mailbox_ the perp just as he comes running out the side-alley, with the stolen jewellery still on him.

This earns him a whoop and a round of applause from the store owner, and after that the case is a home-run: they leave the details to the crowd of converging MXs, and hand off the perp (now with a magnificent bloody nose) to one of the remaining officers, to be driven up to the Cubes. 

 

John is unaware of how quiet he has fallen, on the drive over to Rudy's place.

He's feeling weird.

The greatness of the day has knocked something loose inside him and he can feel it rattling around inside his chest.

First the sheer staggering happiness at having cleared his dad's name, having his tarnished image of the man unexpectedly buffed back to its former shine -- finally, _finally_ vindicated. Of putting the case to bed, and freeing an innocent man, and then of Dorian's surprising little thank-you speech –- and the gift, properly Christened (though now somewhat scuffed) lying in pride of place, like a trophy, on the backseat.

It's made him feel all weak and shaky; big-hearted with gratitude, like his body can't contain all of his goodwill and it's spilling out, overflowing him, covering the whole world.

He hasn't felt like this since- 

Well, since before the Raid.

Everywhere he looks he sees something holy. 

 

It lasts right up until Rudy's door, when he kills the engine and suddenly notices the silence. 

_Dorian_ has noticed; he rubs his hands up his legs nervously, like- _'Well.' He says, nodding jerkily. 'Good-night, John.'_ -like he's wondering what he's done wrong, wondering why John hasn't said a damn word to him the whole drive over.

'N- night.'

 _Damn!_

Dorian is already halfway towards Rudy's door when John snaps.

He undoes his seatbelt hurriedly, slides out the car door and stands up. 

_'Dorian!_ ' He calls after him. 

Dorian stops, turns, an eyebrow raised, still nervous.

'Yes?' 

_C'mon, man, say it quick, before you change your mind. You know you got it in you._

'About what you said before,' he starts, voice raised in order to carry, 'about Pel... that you could never be what he was?'

'Yes...' 

Dorian's voice is characteristically calm. 

John leans on the roof of the car, fingers laced together, gazing off into the distance and wondering how to voice this feeling. Far off he can see the lights of the city twinkling, looking kind of magical, and there's a cool breeze blowing across his eyes, a nip in the night air that takes the edge off the heat. For once he feels _wise_ as well as old. 

He swallows. 

'What Pel was, to me, was: a good _cop,_ ' he counts on his fingers, 'a good _partner_ , and a great _friend_. So, y'know... if you say you can't be any of that?' He tilts his head. 'I'd say you're already there, man.' 

Dorian's whole face softens as he smiles, even his _body_ -language relaxes – which, who the hell knew an android could do that? 

Though his voice is low, it still carries across to the car.

'I appreciate you telling me that, John.' 

'Yeah, well, you don't have to worry about me telling any of that _other_ stuff I mentioned to any _Review Board_ , okay? Not _ever._ We're partners. And partners don't throw each other under the bus.' 

Dorian raises an eyebrow, and he knows what's coming:

' _Unless one of them is an MX?_ ' 

John grins. 

'Yeah, right. Or a friend.' 

Dorian blinks. 

He's frowning, but he's still smiling to himself, that wry half-smile, like he can't quite understand the compliment. 

His bows his head in thought and the side of his face lights up blue, clearly processing something.

He appears to come to a decision, anyway, because he walks back the way he came, towards John, and around the back of the car –- that confident, swaggering walk they programmed him with. 

John watches him approach in surprise, wondering if this whole 'sharing' thing is about to backfire on him. 

'Oh God,' he says out loud, as Dorian draws near. 'You're not gunna _hug_ me are you?'

Dorian's voice is sultry and amused. 'No John, I'm not going to hug you.' 

He stops within a hair's breadth of him, stops so suddenly he _rocks._

Silence.

No movement except for the blue lights shimmering a dance down Dorian's cheekbone.  
John just stares at him as the moment stretches, and still nothing happens. 

'Well, then, what-'

He doesn't get a chance to finish, because Dorian steps right up into his space (nowhere to go with the car door right behind him) and – slowly, consideringly – nuzzles at his face.

Almost like he's trying to-

 _...Oh._

One by one, all the thoughts in John's head blink out, like city lights. 

It is without a doubt the weirdest, slowest, most _tentative_ kiss he has ever-  
But- wait, _no-_ because that was _tongue,_ Dorian is using his _tongue,_ and it's as wet as a human's would be but smoother and sweeter, he tastes strangely of aniseed and metal, like the taste of iron in his spit after a long hard run, and John widens his mouth to drink it in, lick up into his mouth, works his jaws further open. Through his closed eyelids he feels a glow of blue and realises Dorian is _lighting up_ in reaction to him, and _now_ John's brain is firing on all cylinders, messages sparking like supernovas in distant disused parts of his body – he has a hand up, cupping Dorian's face, the other snaking around his back to pull his body in tight against him, firm and hard- 

But then, suddenly – cruelly – Dorian is pulling away and walking back around the car, leaving John to grope thin air. 

He manages a strangled, uncomprehending ' _Wha-?!'_

Before Dorian says, in a confident voice: ' _Rudy?_ ' 

John stares around wildly, half expecting to see Rudy standing there watching them, but instead the comms in his car chirrup into life, and Rudy's voice drifts out into the open air.

 **Dorian?**

Dorian is climbing back into shotgun position when he answers: 'Hey Rudy, don't wait up for me tonight – John and I are running a little late.' 

**Right-O! Case went long, eh?**

'Isn't the only thing thing,' John mutters as he ducks back into the car. 

**Oh! Is that John there? Dorian, did you give him the le- uh- I mean- the _you-know-what?_ Did he like it?**

Dorian eyes John smugly as he lands back behind the wheel. (The side of his face lights up again and John realises that, contrary to his earlier apologies, he is being _bioscanned_.)

'Yeah, I gave it to him,' Dorian purrs, that goddamn lopsided smirk all over his face. 'And I'm pretty sure he liked it.'

 _Pretty sure -_ which is colloquialism-routine speak for ' _liked it? he has a tent in his pants, man._ '

 **John,** Rudy is saying. **Would you like me to come round and help you calibrate it?**

'NO!' _'NO!'_

He and Dorian gaze at each other in horror.

They dial down the vehemence. 

'Uh, _no_ ,' John mutters gruffly, several decibels quieter. 'Thanks. Rudy. I'll do it myself. Kinda thing a man has to do alone, you know what I mean?' 

**Ah! Right! 'Guy Code' - _omertà._ I get you! **

He can almost _hear_ the 'part-of-the-gang' giddiness in Rudy's voice. 

**Well, have a good one gents!**

John looks at Dorian, whose eyes are already set to 'smoulder', and he grins his answer at the wind-shield as he revs the engine. 

The night is glittering with possibilities, like a stolen diamond in the pocket of a jewel-thief. 

'Oh,' he says. ' _We_ will...'      

 

 

.


End file.
